[ That sour look twists just a little further before Daud glances away, sniffs. He can't deny the likelihood of what Corvo's said, given the staggering change in how he feels, given the fact that he was able to walk to this room, at all. (Given the fact that he's still breathing. Given the fact that he hadn't died on Billie's ship.)
What he can't work out is why. Or what he now owes this man (owes the Empress, maybe, for so much as permitting him to be here). He doesn't care for all of the uncertainties. He doesn't like what this means for his plans (are they still his plans? they must be, though at the moment they feel almost distant). He wishes Billie were here.
Folding his arms, Daud sinks back against the chair. It's half an attempt convey irritation, half a way of finding a position that takes less effort to maintain. ]
I'm sure you had your reasons.
[ Look, Corvo, he'll thank you when he feels a little less discombobulated and a lot less suspicious. Well. Maybe he'll thank you. Possibly. ]
no subject
What he can't work out is why. Or what he now owes this man (owes the Empress, maybe, for so much as permitting him to be here). He doesn't care for all of the uncertainties. He doesn't like what this means for his plans (are they still his plans? they must be, though at the moment they feel almost distant). He wishes Billie were here.
Folding his arms, Daud sinks back against the chair. It's half an attempt convey irritation, half a way of finding a position that takes less effort to maintain. ]
I'm sure you had your reasons.
[ Look, Corvo, he'll thank you when he feels a little less discombobulated and a lot less suspicious. Well. Maybe he'll thank you. Possibly. ]